


Rules Of Engagement

by Elfbert



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfbert/pseuds/Elfbert
Summary: (02/17/2005)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Just some Valentine's fluff, except late, cos I only started it on Feb 15th.  
  
Beta: The wonderful SueC, who also came up with the title.  


* * *

Trip wiped his palms on his jeans. He glanced around the room again, wanting everything to be perfect.

There were chips and popcorn in bowls on his desk, cold beers in the chiller, vid file queued up and ready to play.

He hadn't forgotten anything. Except his courage, perhaps.

He reached out for a piece of popcorn, but his door chime made him jump, knocking pieces of the snack over the edge of the bowl and onto his desk.

He cursed under his breath and quickly threw the stray pieces back into the bowl. Then took a deep breath, closed his eyes, wiped his palms on his jeans one more time...and answered the door.

Malcolm smiled at the American and held out two plates—one upturned onto the other.

"Pizza," Reed said by way of an explanation. "I didn't have time to eat."

"Uh...uh...that's great, okay," Trip stammered.

Malcolm gave him a strange look and proceeded into the room, putting down the plates and lifting the top one to reveal a whole pizza.

"Want some?" he gestured to the plate. "I won't manage to eat it all."

Trip looked at the plate and suddenly realised he wasn't hungry at all. In fact, quite the opposite; an uneasy feeling of nausea was settling in his stomach.

He watched as Malcolm sat down, the other man quite at home in Trip's cabin now. They had been spending more time together off duty for a while, and not long ago had decided to break down some of the cultural barriers that still existed between Britain and America...namely, sports.

It had all started when Trip had decided Malcolm should learn the rules of American Football, after which Malcolm insisted on showing Trip a 'proper sport'—rugby. And ever since, every week they could afford the time, they met in Trip's cabin and watched a game, taking it in turns to choose which sport.

But tonight was different. Tonight wasn't about a trivial sports game—tonight was about the game of love.

Trip sat down on the very edge of the bed, making no move to turn on the recording.

Malcolm noticed Trip's unusual silence and frowned.

"Trip?"

"Uh...you...you know what day it is today, right?" Trip asked, turning to look at Malcolm.

"Yes." Reed inwardly shuddered. Half the reason he hadn't eaten in the mess hall was the sickeningly large proportion of couples managing to have a romantic Valentine's meal. How did any work ever get done on the ship when everyone was so busy pairing off with one-another?

"Well..."Trip hesitated, still unsure how to phrase his next, despite weeks of planning. "Well...I was...wondering, if perhaps, you'd be interested in maybe...me?"

Malcolm's jaw actually dropped. "What?"

"You, and me, and...us. Becoming a couple. Maybe." Trip said brokenly, wishing he was rather more eloquent and rather less nervous.

Reed just stared. He couldn't believe this was happening. After all, Trip and T'Pol had been acting as if they wanted to jump each other's bones for a while now, as far as Malcolm could see. And he hadn't even been looking very closely. Not at T'Pol, anyway. Trip...well, he couldn't pretend that keeping one's eyes off Trip was easy, ever. Especially when the engineer insisted on leaning over large pieces of machinery in his tight uniform.

"I don't know what to say." Malcolm turned slightly and dared to reach out toward Trip, hoping that his dream might finally come true.

Trip couldn't believe he hadn't been laid out on the floor already—and not in the nice way, but by the fist he expected Malcolm to lash out with at such a suggestion. He allowed the beginnings of a tiny smile to tug on the corners of his mouth.

Malcolm saw the start of a smirk on Trip's face and suddenly reality seemed to fall back around him like a tonne of bricks.

"You fucking bastard, that's not funny," he stood up abruptly, his face burning at the thought of nearly falling for Trip's sick joke. As if his heart falling for Trip wasn't bad enough already. He didn't stay around for the expected crowing of 'got ya' or whatever else the American chose to drawl at him between his gales of laughter. He stalked out, wishing that Enterprise had been equipped with doors which slammed.

He walked back to his own cabin, furious with Trip for playing such a sick joke, but also furious with himself for reacting so badly. If he'd just laughed it off then it could have been forgotten about, but by storming off...surely Trip would guess the truth.

But there had been a moment, one long moment, when Reed had truly believed Trip was being serious, and his heart had been lost to the man. Then Trip had smirked, and his heart felt as if it had been thrown to the floor and stamped on.

He hadn't even been sure Trip had understood all the little hints he'd been dropping for the last year or so, and realised that he, Malcolm Reed, was gay. And then when he had apparently finally noticed, Trip had just used it to play a sick practical joke.

"Bastard!" Malcolm spat out loud, then threw a padd hard against the wall.

And immediately worried that it had had something important on it, or that the noise might have disturbed his next-door neighbour. He blushed again, feeling stupid at his own actions. He was still hungry too, although he didn't know why food mattered when he was quite clearly never going to leave his cabin ever again, unless it was feet-first inside a torpedo casing. Or if things got really serious without him to protect the ship, he could be sucked out through a massive hull breach, he thought vindictively. And who'd be to blame then, Mr Tucker?

Then he realised how irrational his rambling thoughts actually were and sat on the bed, trying to put the padd back together.

Trip sat back heavily on his bed. Then stood up abruptly and got halfway to his door before turning back around, then spun around again and made it as far as the door before clenching his fists and banging both hands on it. He had no idea what had just happened. One minute everything seemed to be going perfectly to plan, the next Malcolm had stormed off. His Valentine's surprise definitely required the presence of the armoury officer, so Trip decided on the only reasonable course of action: hunting down the Englishman.

Once Trip was standing outside Reed's cabin he felt his nerves return. It would have helped if he even knew exactly what he'd done wrong.

Maybe Malcolm was horrified by being propositioned by another man. Or, more likely for Malcolm, horrified at being propositioned by a superior officer. After all, he'd looked like he was going to accept Trip's offer for a moment. But Charles Tucker the third was not a man who was beaten easily. He did not fold under pressure. In fact, there was only one person who had ever beaten him in an argument. And that man was...on the other side of the door he now stood outside. Crap.

Despite knowing it might not be good for his health, Trip reached out and pressed the door chime.

There was no answer. So he pressed it again. And again. And then held his finger on the button. Finally he resorted to shouting.

"Mal, I know you're in there. We need to talk. I don't know what you thought just happened, but I can explain," Trip said, not at all sure he really could. "And if you don't let me in to talk I'll just sit down here and say what I have to say. And I don't care if the whole crew end up listening to me holler through your door."

There was a long silence, so Trip sat down, crosslegged, on the floor. He had just taken a breath in to start his next monologue when the door slid open. And he found himself staring at Malcolm's crotch.

"Go away, Trip," Malcolm hissed.

But Trip leapt up. "No, Mal, you have to listen. I don't know what just happened, but...you've got it wrong."

Malcolm looked at Trip hard, his eyes narrowing.

"Get inside then, before everyone sees you," he said in a low voice.

Trip gratefully moved past Malcolm and stepped into the room. He immediately turned to face the other man.

"Look, Mal, I honestly don't know what happened back there...I didn't mean to...make you angry."

"You...what?! How did you think I'd react? I've spent half my time on this ship trying to get you to realise how I felt about you, and as soon as you cottoned on you made some stupid joke about it!" Malcolm was trying to keep his voice down, so was compensating by making rather severe hand gestures. Trip was a little frightened of being in the confined space with the angry man.

"I wasn't making a joke. I meant it," Trip said quietly.

"Meant...you what? Trip, I swear, if you're taking the piss..." Malcolm threatened.

"No, no, I was asking you seriously. I thought you were about to agree to be my boyfriend when you...left," Trip finished lamely.

"You thought I was going to say yes? That's why you...Oh."

"That's why I what?" Trip dared to reach out and take Malcolm's hand, feeling the skin warm and dry against his own.

"You smiled," Malcolm answered, doing exactly that.

Trip frowned. "So...I smiled, and you stormed out?"

"I thought...I thought you were playing some practical joke. I thought it was too good to be true." Malcolm looked embarrassed.

"I promise you it isn't," Trip said seriously.

"Then, Mr Tucker, why are we standing in my quarters instead of lying on your bed?"

The game was forgotten, the night would be remembered for a long long time.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mal," Trip murmered.

"Yes, it was, thanks to you," Malcolm replied.


End file.
